


punted

by debilitas



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Achromatopsia, Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Strength Kink, Trans Brick, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 12:23:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21338191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debilitas/pseuds/debilitas
Summary: Brick reeks of blood and sweat, but he’s also a warm, solid drinking buddy.
Relationships: Brick/Mordecai (Borderlands)
Kudos: 49





	punted

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/transbrick/status/1188587328987680771?s=20) iconic moment from the lame comics  
written by a trans man, masculine terms are used. features non graphic vaginal penetration, and a quick allusion to top chop scars  
& mordecai's achromatopsia explained [here](https://twitter.com/transbrick/status/1182491618265522177?s=20)  
translations at the end

Brick reeks of blood and sweat, but he’s also a warm, solid drinking buddy. Mordecai settles in beside him like it’s muscle memory, watching in awe as the man breaks the bottle open. He’s reminded that Brick could snap his scrawny body in half, then takes a swig to drown the feelings it brings.

“To Claptrap,” Brick says without a shred of irony.

“Shit. To Claptrap,” Mordecai shrugs, taking another sip then offering the booze. “He’s nailin’ that big light socket in the sky.”

Brick accepts the bottle. “Funny little thing.” He’s eyeing Mordecai as he says it. The big arm around his shoulder feels heavier than it did before. 

The rest of their ragtag group is probably sizing up the vault key with sweaty, anxious palms and thundering hearts. Tannis smacking them away as she rambled on and on about things they only half understood. Mordecai’s happy to be separate from the little piece of chaos: he plans to sit back, let the knuckleheads bicker, then reap the rewards. And Brick… well, he seems content to follow him around like a lost puppy. A big, deadly puppy.

It’d take a lot more than a few swigs to get Mordecai drunk, but his head is already swimming from their most recent near death experience and something a little darker. This _something_ has been with him for weeks, ever since Brick first stepped onto the bus. 

The metal squealed under his weight, careening to the side until he made it to the aisle. _Holy shit_, he’d thought, stepping aside to let Brick’s bulk by. He knew people were bigger than average on Pandora, but this was just excessive. A foot taller than him, at least three hundred pounds of pure muscle and anger. Mordecai was only human, and it was completely natural to speculate—

Fine. Brick’s hot. In a carnal, impulsive way. Like driving a car too fast or leaping off a cliff into unknown waters. Unknown, deep voiced and muscle-y waters that have no problem cuddling up to him in a darkened backseat. 

They’re undeniably alone, their companions miles away while the harsh Pandoran sun sets overhead. No one around to catch Mordecai leaning in a few more inches, or gloved hand creeping up a big thigh.

When Brick passes the bottle back, Mordecai makes a point of wrapping both lips around the lid and taking a long, purposeful swallow. He feels the muscles in his throat move, and more importantly, sees Brick watching them. 

There’s never been any doubt that Brick’s into men, so this little game was all about if he was into one man in particular: Mordecai himself. His tongue swipes his upper lip, tasting stray liquor, and the deep breath Brick draws sends a clear message. His pupils dilate, conquering a color Mordecai can’t see.

“You ever done it with a guy that’s covered in skag guts?” Mordecai throws back another mouthful of booze, tosses the empty bottle to the floor and swings a bony leg over Brick’s lap.

Brick’s lip twitches into a smile. “Yeah.”

“Gonna make me jealous,” Mordecai straddles his lap fully, taking the opportunity to run both hands down a barrel chest. Absolutely rock solid muscle, with a huge heart pounding underneath. He can see Brick’s hands splayed out on the seat, fingers tapping against the material in increments of three. He seems to have a _something_ of his own that he’s holding back. 

Their lips meet in a hurried, open mouthed kiss. Brick struggles to breathe as his nose crushes against the leather of Mordecai’s mask, wide tongue slipping out just as soon as it fumbled inside.

“Off,” he grunts, already tugging at the base of the mask. Mordecai considers stopping him: none of their group had seen his face yet, and there was always the chance it’d be enough to kill the mood. Brick maneuvers the mask off, pushing the goggles up to his hairline with a thumb as he does.

Mordecai squints in the dim light. Brick’s staring at him, big hands frozen behind his head. A beat, then the sound of the mask hitting the floor.

“Pretty.”

Mordecai barks out a surprised laugh. He’s most certainly not pretty, all awkward tan lines and sunburnt flesh. He’s not sure if anyone ever called him that, especially with such an earnest look on their face. It isn’t the look of a quick, casual lay, and Mordecai decides he likes him too much to mind. The man isn’t stupid, but he’s simple; not the type to lie. If he says he’s pretty, he must really think so.

“_Tonto_.” Mordecai huffs, hands finding the bottom of Brick’s tank. The polyester strains as he moves it up and over his chest. “Holy shit.” 

The skin is marred by scar tissue: gunshot and stab wounds of varying ages, but Mordecai’s attention is held by something else. Namely, the sheer scope of hard muscle, carved out like the marble of a statue. He can only imagine the time, the dedication it took to take shape.

He runs a palm across a massive pectoral, hand dwarfed by the size of it. The skin is warm through his glove as Brick takes deep, unsteady breaths. Mordecai could dedicate a few hours to appreciating every inch of the body in front of him, but though their friends are far, they will be returning at some point. They, unfortunately, need to pick up the pace.

Mordecai crushes their lips together once more, now grinding against the man beneath him. He finally finds the perfect angle, Brick taking hold of his sides and rutting up against him. A single hand is almost enough to wrap around Mordecai’s waist, and he wants to laugh with the intensity of it. 

He’s used to being the small one in any given scenario — not tiny. It’d take one half ass squeeze for Brick to break him in two. He won’t, though. Because Brick likes him. Thinks he’s pretty. 

Then Brick is pawing at Mordecai’s clothes, fumbling with them as he’s unwilling to separate them for a single second. He’s clumsy and desperate, grunting as he tries to keep up with a more skilled tongue.

_Rip._

Mordecai feels the humid air on his chest, and pulls away to find his shirt torn clean in half, sleeves hanging uselessly from his shoulders. Brick doesn’t even bother looking apologetic, already cupping his chest and lavishing newly exposed skin. Mordecai gives the lightest of taps to the back of his head to scold him, but he really can’t complain. He’s sure someone hasn’t been this excited to get him naked since he was a much younger, better looking man.

He leans back until his head hits the passenger seat, occupied with unbuckling his belt until rays from the setting sun shine through the back window. Straight into his eyes. He hisses in pain and Brick immediately stops.

“The light,” Mordecai says, shielding his eyes with both hands. He can’t see the other man’s expression. “Hurts.”

Brick tries to reposition his bulk to block out the sun, then gives up. Taking hold of a blinded Mordecai, he turns his scrawny body around until they’re back to chest. Mordecai would normally object, but he’s happy to be able to open his eyes again. Even if he still has to squint.

“Better?” Brick asks over his shoulder.

Mordecai nods. Brick pushes stray dreadlocks aside and leaves a wet kiss on the nape of his neck. It’s a brief, tender gesture that makes his gut twinge with more than arousal.

It’s then he realizes that Brick is so _gentle_. He’d kept big, impossibly strong hands to himself for so long, then held Mordecai just enough to not apply any pressure. And when he got too excited the only thing injured was a cheap shirt. Even now Mordecai can feel the restraint, every muscle rigid, nearly shaking from the strain.

Brick’s _something_ was himself. He’d been holding back the very thing Mordecai liked. His mind filled with images of all the times Brick must’ve lost himself: cracked headboards, accidental bruises, ripped clothes. Brick was trying his damnedest to shield Mordecai from something he wasn’t afraid of. 

“Hey,” Mordecai says, loudly fumbling with his belt to show that he’s still very much interested. “Don’t gotta hold back, amigo. I trust you. Let loose.”

The dam seems to break. Brick’s panting into Mordecai’s ear as he unbuckles his belt for him, peeling his pants down skinny thighs. Teeth grazing the nape of his neck with just enough pressure to leave an indentation before a wide tongue swipes over it. 

Mordecai shrugs off the remains of his shirt, knowing there'll be no good excuse for its state. Brick’s got a denim vest thrown in the back, maybe he could throw it on just before their friends returned. Take bets on who’d say something first. Probably Lilith. Roland might turn right back around and leave. 

The goggles slip haphazardly back into place, and Brick immediately yanks them off. Mordecai cringes the sight of big thumbs entirely too close to the lenses.

“Don’t like ‘em,” Brick says. “Wanna see you.”

Mordecai could point out that while the sentiment is sweet, the tinted lenses would give him a moment to stop squinting. He doesn’t. 

Brick runs a palm up his spine, and makes a pleased noise when Mordecai shivers. A single hand is about the width of his shoulders, calluses rough against the skin and Mordecai’s only tipsy but he wishes he were sober. He wants to feel _everything_, wants to memorize every sensation. 

He squirms out of his underwear, and Brick peeks over his shoulder. He falls back against the bulk behind him, head cocked away from the sun. Scrawny legs are stretched over big, powerful ones, and he feels like he’s on display. Brick swallows hard, hands hovering over him, asking for permission.

“Go on, big guy,” Mordecai says into his ear, and the man honest to god _trembles_. “Show me what ya got.”

Then they’re frantic again, a mess of hands and limbs. Brick’s hand completely covers his dick, the other splayed across his chest. Molten heat is pumping through Mordecai’s veins as Brick jerks him off fast and eager. The man’s breath is hot and loud in his ear, lips trying to kiss the side of his face. 

Mordecai grips the back of the seat with both hands, digging his fingers into leather as he thrusts into the tight heat of Brick’s fist.

It’s been too long, he’s still high from the adrenaline of their fight, or it’s just an off day for him. There’s plenty of excuses for him to already be so close, and he needs to slow down before he embarrasses himself.

Brick’s mouth meets his throat again, and he cranes his neck to give more access, slight pain bleeding over into pleasure. His pulse thunders in his ears as he feels the pressure of teeth on his neck, the bruising grip across his bony chest, Brick’s hand enclosing his dick.

“Brick, I’m gonna—“

— And he’s coming. He chokes out a few gasps, chest heaving. A few more dreads have escaped their tie, curtaining his face as he blinks twice, feeling any and all tension drain from his limbs. Brick releases his dick, palm stained with a few ropes of sticky come that he rubs onto the seat beside them.

The sun is now in the final stages of setting, blanketing them in moderate darkness. Mordecai can open his eyes fully, kicking off his pants before turning to move Brick onto his back. Brick’s propped up against the technical’s door, the back of his head pressed to the window. 

Logistics of positioning such a massive body are difficult, Mordecai clambering into the space between his legs. It’d be easier with Brick on top of him, but Mordecai isn’t in the business of being crushed to death.

His dick twitches with renewed interest at the sight of Brick sprawled underneath him, big arms pulling him closer. There’s an overheated flush to his skin, and Mordecai tastes sweat when their lips reunite. He touches every inch of Brick’s exposed torso, thumbs briefly ghosting over the jagged pink scars under both pectorals. Hands never settling on a particular spot, Mordecai feels up every muscle, rutting against him until he’s hard again. 

“Now,” Brick grunts, a single hand cupping the back of Mordecai’s skull. “_Now_.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mordecai bites back, padlock around the other man’s waist clanking as he unbuckles the belt. It’s one of the stupidest accessories he’s seen on Pandora, he decides. And the most frustrating.

Mordecai peels the denim away from solid thighs and down just enough for him to gain access. Palm flush against the window, he presses inside, finding no resistance. Brick groans deep in his throat, lips pressed into a hard line.

"Open your mouth," Mordecai murmurs with a roll of his hips. "Open your mouth." Brick obeys.

Mordecai kisses deep and dirty, occasionally nipping his bottom lip just to get a noise out of him as he sets a brutalizing pace. He thrusts too quickly for any real nuance, and hard enough for the truck to move with them.

He imagines the rest of the group returning with the key, shuffling to an embarrassed stop at the sight of the rocking technical. No denying what they’re doing inside, Mordecai having the smug satisfaction of getting the real prize. 

Separating their mouths, he relents slightly to lean in, nipping the shell of Brick’s ear before speaking. 

“_He estado pensando en ti_,” he says, voice rough. He knows Brick doesn’t understand a word, but the reaction is undeniable. Brick exhales through his nose, free hand clamping down on the handle of the truck’s door until the plastic bends. Not the first person to get off on Mordecai’s Spanish, but certainly the most obvious about it.

“What, you like that?” Mordecai asks needlessly, grin wolfish. His hips slow until he’s barely moving, just enough to keep them invested but not distracted. 

“Like you,” is Brick’s reply. Direct without being curt, delivered with no irony — so unequivocally genuine. Mordecai chuckles, lacing both arms around the other man’s big head. He catches a look of surprise on Brick’s face when he nuzzles against his cheekbone.

“_Me vuelves loco_,” Mordecai breathes. The sun must’ve baked his brain beyond repair, that first climax was a little too intense. Or he really did die and he’s in Heaven because the way their bodies — their dramatically, comically different bodies — slot together is too perfect. 

What a corny, disgustingly earnest thought. Brick’s rubbing off on him in more ways than one.

Brick curls one strong leg over Mordecai’s lower back, pulling him closer and burying him to the hilt. Mordecai digs his fingertips into the bulk of Brick’s shoulders as he resumes his movements, exhaling with each snap of his hips. 

“Mordy,” Brick’s nearly flat against the seat, throwing his head back. Mordecai smiles against his exposed throat, beard scratching the flushed skin.

“_¿Vas a llegar?_ Yeah you are,” Mordecai snakes a hand between them, thumbing Brick’s dick with no real rhythm as he thrusts. “Come on, big guy. I got you.” 

Mordecai loses himself in the noises Brick makes as he comes, his own release not far behind. He feels the last few dreads fall out of their tie, the sweat on his brow, the tight heat around him. Babbling filthy things in both of his languages, he’s so close—

Something taps on the window.

“Uh, guys?”

Mordecai whips his head up to see Roland, closest to the technical, stifling laughter. Lilith is next to him, openly giggling. Tannis stands further back, preoccupied with what Mordecai assumes is the key. His face goes hot with shame.

“We got the key,” Roland adds.

“Oh, good,” Mordecai replies dumbly. Brick is unperturbed, suckling at the bite mark he’d left on Mordecai’s neck. The big, impossible to miss crimson mark that he can’t even hide, because his shirt is in tatters.

“Gotta get moving. Make yourselves decent, yeah?” With that, the three start their retreat from the truck, Lilith tugging at Roland’s arm as they do.

“I told you!” She squeals. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“Yeah, you told me,” Roland concurs.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't speak spanish, but my boyfriend does, so here's the translations to the best of our understanding  
_he estado pensando en ti_: i've been thinking about you  
_me vuelves loco_: you drive me crazy  
_vas a llegar_: llegar means to "come to a place", intended as "are you going to come?"  
_tonto_: silly, stupid, etc.


End file.
